


Beach Posturing

by WInger



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Grayson (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Banter, Beach Sex, Body Worship, Canon Compliant, Gen, Humor, Innuendo, M/M, Sexual Frustration, Sexual Humor, Sexual Tension, Voyeurism, beach, mentioned relationships, naked
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 20:14:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18453824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WInger/pseuds/WInger
Summary: Two proud men, on an idyllic beach in Corfu, Greece(Grayson #16)after skinny dipping-less than five feet apart because they’re not gay-get heated over one man’s voyeuristic hobby until a timely interruption by potential enemy helicopter surveillance.---“You’re overestimating the sights they have from their helicopter. Besides, we’re two guys, fully naked, tucked under the shade of several palm trees. Nobody is going to want to go out of their way to zoom in on us.”“If you are suggesting that our accidental guise as a homosexual couple on a nude beach is foolproof, then you have another thing coming.”--





	Beach Posturing

On the beach, reclining on the warm sand, head propped up on an elbow, lying next to his (current) bff and super-spy agent partner, Dick Grayson makes heart eyes at the Tiger King of Kandahar, whose serene sleeping face made him look so approachable, sometimes Dick forgets that this is not just another random supermodel that he’s charmed to go on a skinny-dipping vacation to the idyllic Corfu, Greece with.

The complete lack of any item of clothing on his person most definitely helped.

Though on that point, neither open nor express hostility has ever prevented Dick from closing the gap between himself and others, and-

“Shut the fuck up, Grayson.”

Okay, so not so asleep.

“I didn’t say or do anything!”

“I can hear your thoughts.”

Can he actually? Interesting subject to think on; might be worth further investigation. He’ll make a note about it mentally, but now's not the time. Because presently he's preoccupied with, _ahem,_ studying this hot piece of meat resting so unguardedly beside him. Naked, and completely fearless. _Wild_ , even. 

What a body, and what a work of art – and that, coming from Dick, is high praise, considering how (to Bruce’s eternal disappointment) he’s always considered Superman to be the gold standard. And that’s the reason why he’s staring so unabashedly at Tiger’s body: peak condition musculature on another’s is always worth dissecting, if only so that he can learn from them and continue sculpting his own to perfection. Furthermore, the opportunity to check out a naked body without Kevlar armor padding (because some people add muscle definition to their “skin-tight” suits) didn’t come often. Falling into bed with beautiful lady partners is one thing. It took far more time and effort to work out an arrangement with _male_ colleagues.

And even leaving aside the perfect muscle mass to body fat ratio Tiger has, the way he looked right about now – at peace – was a sight for sore eyes. Beads of water clung to him and his skin looked like shimmering gold coins in the sun. He also had an array of scars on display - many weapons, many a brutal fight, a whole library of stories to tell. A fascinating partner to many the eyes of women - and men as well - for sure. 

Maybe it’ll help clear the air a little if he were to give voice to just how highly he thought of Tiger’s physical appearance, now that the man’s cracked one bright hazel eye opened and trained it on him.

After all, his observations are purely innocent, and Dick would even go as far as to swear on his honor; but unfortunately for him, this is an industry where nobody trusted each other much or for long. So instead he reacts by slowly and deliberately flashing his eyes down to Tiger’s crotch.

To be frank, he’s never been that interested in other man’s penises. He doesn’t have much thoughts about this one other than it suited the rest of Tiger’s body. “I think you have me to thank for ensuring that your skin is an identical shade from head to toe,” he comments, light and jovial.  

When he flicks his eyes back up, Tiger’s other eye is uncovered, and he’s staring pointedly at Dick’s dick, too.

To Dick’s own surprise, he’s rattled (just a little) by the quick and brutal judgement from that one glance. Again, he thinks about clarifying that his intention had never been to compare penises, but he’s reluctant because his musculature observational studies is a much private, much guilty pleasure that he knows is just a little too weird to be explained. 

On the fly he just goes with, “Like what you see?”

It’s such a clichéd thing to say he instantly hears Damian Wayne’s voice bemoaning about it in the back of his head. Much like Robin, Tiger has a short fuse that is easily triggered by Dick's worst, cheesiest lines, and having said it, he now waits for the unimpressed eye-roll and crisp insult to come.  

Instead Tiger says, “It’s not unexpected.”

Damn. What the hell does that even mean? But without bothering to hear Dick's response, Tiger’s eyes drift shut, icy and bored.

You know what? Dick’s always been comfortable in his own skin, thy name being sexiness. It's a fact that he prides himself on and tends to lord over others, and with such self-confidence in the abundance he makes sure he gets the proper respect and acknowledgement whenever he's due, so-

“Yours is also exactly how I imagined it to look!”

That didn’t come out all that right. Tiger snorts. 

“What I _meant_ , is that yours isn’t totally unexpected either-“

“Like a fish out of water.”

“Excuse me?“

“For all that bravado, I’m surprised at how vulnerable you become when naked.”

“Whoa. _Wow_ , okay. That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?”

“It isn’t.”

“Hmm,” says Tiger, ending the conversation yet again.  

Dick simmers for a while. Then he relaxes and decides to just let the embarrassment go. With peace returned, and striving somehow to be even quieter than before, he slips back into his original activity of scanning Tiger’s entire body with his eyes. Following the ridges of his muscles with his mind. At the very least, after that awkward conversation, Tiger should find himself with sufficient motivation to feign ignorance, to genuinely fall asleep, or to simply avoid further exchanges with Dick Grayson about his eccentricities. 

“Your staring is loud,” he hears, right as he'd started to get comfortable.

“… Why not just take it as a compliment?”

“Take what, exactly?”

Dick sighs. Reminds himself that honesty is a virtue that he’s the lonely champion of in this covert ops organization, and that a good leader leads by example.

“My admiration for your sun-kissed, well-toned body.”

“Your _what?”_

“I mean, from a 10 to a… 8.7, your body is pretty close to perfect. The standard for perfection being mine, that is. But to always stay on top of my game I have to keep an eye out for the competition, which is what I’m doing. Assessing your goods. What you have. It’s just a body thing. That’s what I’m all about.” There he is. Dick’s inner nerd unleashed. He sighs again, masking his shyness. 

Tiger reopens both eyes. There's a frown in his brows and he looks like he's wondering if he should take offence. “What does the Matron see in you?”

“Excuse me?” Dick balks. That was unnecessarily aggressive. 

“You’re one hell of a nervous chatter when you’re intimidated.”

“Who said I’m intimidated by you?”

“You’re out of your depths.”

“And what’s with all the fish and water metaphors?“

“Sex god Dick Grayson from the city of Gotham.” Tiger’s voice drops an octave, comes out as a rich purr. The hairs on the back of Dick’s neck rises. “Adonis incarnate, hitting all the girls in town with his smoldering blue eyes…  Ready to sweep them off their feet, but at a complete loss as to what to do when he dares also to stare at the men… And the men stare back.”

So many questions were flooding Dick’s brain. That Tiger had a developed sense of humor? That that was his sexy bedroom voice? That he might have indirectly acknowledged Dick’s sex appeal? He doesn’t know which to even address first. When in doubt, deflect and buy time until a better approach can be devised. Bruce taught him that. “You know what? I think _you’re_ the one intimidated by me.”

“You misunderstand, as usual. This is you getting on my nerves.”

And attack the sexy voice next. “That the voice you reserve for Agent 8?”

Finally, after so long, a hint of that good old Tiger temper flashes across his face. “ _No_.”

It says something about Dick that he’d rather poke this warning sign in the eye than address the previous thread of conversation. The reason is definitely  _not_ that he’s intimidated by men or the act of flirting with them in any way. Ridiculous – him and Midnighter are tight, and he’s one among many that can recognize Dick from the sight of his buttcheeks alone. “Did you ever sleep with her?”

Tiger growls. It always tickles Dick when he growls. The fact that he does growl and his name is Tiger is- “Did you sleep with Matron?”

“Of course not.”

“We too honored our organization’s policy about relationships with partner agents, Grayson.”

Which was the gray area that Dick and Alia’s one-night stand fell into, since they hadn’t been each other’s respective partners. He almost asks Tiger in return about him and Matron, though he withheld, deciding that he could live without knowing any more about Helena Bertinelli’s taste in men.

The distant sounds of a chopper’s blades in the air puts a meaningful hold to their talk. Tiger stills – his breathing becomes completely silent, and he takes stock of all the involuntary motions a resting body naturally makes and slows them to indiscernible stillness. It’s actually pretty suspect behavior to the trained eye.  

Nevertheless Dick imitates him. They say the mirroring of another’s body language indicates a subconscious level of deferment to the alpha in a social interaction. Which, fair enough – the higher-ranking agent always knows best in the field. 

“There’s no way they’ll know it’s us,” he says confidently. It’s more likely they’ll be fine rather than not. What's more, they had all their weapons buried in the sand around them. Dick’s biggest concern is letting precious vacation time slip away because of this minor security concern.

“Unless they’re looking specifically for Spyral agents, of which our face-scrambling tech will be a dead giveaway.”

“You’re overestimating the sights they have from their helicopter. Besides, we’re two guys, fully naked, tucked under the shade of several palm trees. Nobody is going to want to go out of their way to zoom in on us.”

“If you are suggesting that our accidental guise as a homosexual couple on a nude beach is foolproof, then you have another thing coming.”

“ _Always_ a critic. Unless that was a thinly veiled insult on how I don’t fit your bill for an ideal man-“

“You do not. Nobody’s going to think much of us with how unnaturally stiff you’re behaving.”

“Oh, yeah?” That came out through grounded teeth. For all that Tiger complained about Dick annoying him – this man was just as damn annoying to Dick! “Don’t bite me when I change things up,” he warns, turning his mood serious. He doesn't want to have to go far, but the helicopter didn’t sound like it was letting up.

“You don’t have the balls.” Tiger drawls.

It’s like he said that knowing that it’ll push Dick over the edge. He rolls on the sand and planks himself assertively over Tiger’s body.

This way, both their Hypnos-scrambled faces are blocked from view, and with a pose this bold, Dick is even more certain that nobody would want to be within a ten-mile radius of the two of them. His cheeky grin said as much to his partner.

Tiger doesn’t say a word. His face doesn’t even twitch in surprise – artificially calm, obviously, he’s got such a tight grip over his body’s muscles that he’s actively suppressing a physical reaction. Dick opens his mouth to gloat. 

But before he could get a word out, Tiger raises his arms. They move out of sight and touch his skin exactly in the small dip of his back. How he could be so accurate without looking, Dick doesn’t want to know. 

“Don’t bite me,” Tiger mocks, half-serious, while it's now Dick's turn to fight himself to remain unperturbed about the developing situation. Tiger flattens out his palm and fingers, getting comfortable. His hands slide south, and each cup around one of Dick’s ass cheeks. Big and coarse. The tips of his fingers curve into flesh, like unsheathing claws. It would have been lewd if Tiger’s expression wasn’t so deadpan. Dick’s abs strain to keep his body upright and immobile.  

The helicopter sounds like it’s passing right over their heads this very moment.

“Which is Jim?”

“The right one.”

His right hand digs deep into Dick’s left cheek and doesn’t let go. Dick _clenches_ – his teeth together. Far too late, Dick is realizing that he’s been manipulated into this by sneaky reverse psychology. Damn it. 

“That’s Juan.  _My_ right.” The stupid names the girls at St. Hardian had bestowed upon his right and left butts is famous even among the professional operatives.

Tiger’s left hand slaps the other one, and then pats it softly after the flesh had stopped jiggling.

“You’re right,” he says. Voice controlled and bored. Eyes half-lidded and uninterested. “You do have a nice ass."

“Who’s looking at us now?” Dick challenges, too wary to bask in that unexpected compliment. His instinct wasn’t about to let him lower his guard around Tiger. He didn’t trust how his partners words don't match up with his actions. And this position _is_ compromising. Vulnerable, even. He’d underestimated things. He can't even tell if further uncharacteristic compliments from Tiger would be more or less comforting to his present state of mind. 

Suddenly Tiger pushes his body off the sand, and faster than Dick could blink, flips their positions around, bottom to top. Which, smooth as he made it, still hurt when Dick cracked the back of his head against the ground.

That, plus the shot that his dignity just took, that is.

“That reminded me,” Tiger explains. “People do recognize you by your behind, don’t they?”

Dick doesn’t have words. Forget the fact that Tiger doesn’t have any care for boundaries or respectable distance that Dick had been careful about maintaining earlier. There’s a fair bit of their skin touching, leg to leg, and a bit of chest on chest. But most crucial of all was how he’d managed to knock Dick’s legs apart in the mid-air spin. His left leg is lying directly in-between Dick’s, keeping them separate. 

He’s alarmed enough that he still has yet to put his grin back on his face.

“Relax,” Tiger tells him. Is that an upturned corner of his mouth? “We’re trying to sell a story here.”

Dick narrows his eyes before he remembers that this between them is supposed to be a battle of wills. He should summon a smile ASAP – that’ll show him – but he couldn’t bring himself to loosen up fast enough with the onset of Tiger’s face looming closer and closer, towards his neck. The fear that the longer he stayed passive the closer Tiger would get to the loudly pulsating vein in his neck prompts Dick to speak up, and to make his next move in this rapidly evolving game:

“Lift my hips, why don’t you?”

Dick might not be able to see his eyes, but he could feel the intensity of his glare through the pores of his skin.

This is a contest for sure, but they each have a line that they wouldn’t cross. Where Tiger is impatient and quick-tempered, Dick is young and full of stamina. He could feel his own victory coming up, as assured as how he knew the helicopter would eventually fly off, having nothing unusual to report on the two of them good-looking, vacationing men on the nude beach. 

And so Dick is genuinely surprised when he feels a hand slip under his back. Tiger doing as told.  

Dick tenses up and aggressively slams his own hand onto the back of Tiger’s neck before he could stop himself.

Tiger pulls his head back up and looks Dick dead in the eyes. There is, as expected, a glare on his face, though it’s not the annoyed one but the focused one, reserved for when they’re in a pinch on missions. Is that what this is? Dick couldn’t follow – there’s a pretty big part of him floundering in pure confusion.  

“Can you commit to this, agent?”

The tension written on Tiger’s face is the same one deep in Dick’s gut. His answer is propelled by the helicopter blades in the air.

“I know what I’m doing,” he insists, and impulsively pulls Tiger’s face onto his.

It’s just _kissing_. Even if it’s with a guy, there’s no way the legendary, Adonis-incarnate Dick Grayson of Gotham could do it wrong for long.

Yet again, it seems as though nothing could faze Agent 1. As he kisses back, the rest of him is busy, his knee knocking against Dick’s inner thigh, his other hand also going to his waist. Dick’s hips are yanked further upwards, as requested. His finds his crotch colliding against solid body, through no will of his own, and squeezes his eyes shut. Doesn't really make him feel any better. Tiger rocks their bodies together – and it’s nothing, really, he’s positioned in such a way that he couldn’t even feel Tiger’s crotch – while Dick grunts, reactive, the sounds not fully making past their locked lips, even as he’s personally aware of how he’s getting progressively louder with each agonizing buck.

Wait, that’s not it.

Higher-pitched.

His partner is merciless, dedicated to selling this act to spies that may or may not be looking at them. Dick has a death-grip on his shoulders. Clinging to life as the Tiger devours him. There’s not one single coherent thought in his head. He’s acting on a prayer to somehow keep pace with Tiger, inasmuch as every jerk threatened to completely knock his sweaty palms off their hold, and with it, the last remnants of his control. Still not daring to open his eyes, Dick plays his part and rides Tiger out until the bitter end. He's  _not_ giving up. 

He gasps loudly when Tiger finally releases him, rolling off into Dick’s original spot on the sand. Too loudly. Definitely too affected. The coast seems clear. The helicopter isn’t around anymore, and Dick - Dick can’t catch his breath. He can feel sweat leaking past his temples and running down his back. Parts of his body felt like they were on literal fire – his face, his ears, every part that had been in contact with Tiger. All the wrong places. 

“Job well done, agent.” Tiger comments dryly. He gets up from the sand and heads to the water. Dick is quiet. He has nothing to say and doesn’t even look up to check that Tiger doesn't get ambushed along the way or anything.

He slaps his hands over his face and reflects on the necessity of that no-sex rule between partner agents while his heartrate continues throbbing powerfully and especially between his legs. 

**Author's Note:**

>  _Grayson_ is a great run and contributed many gems to the great Dick Grayson's sex appeal canon. 
> 
> Just to clarify some background from the comics canon I alluded to:  
> Agent 8 = Alia. She was Tiger (Agent 1)'s field partner.  
> Matron = Helena Bertinelli. She was Dick's field partner.  
> Now the boys are each other's partners.  
> They all work for the spy agency Spyral.  
> They are armed with Hypnos tech, which scrambles their face to outsiders, ensuring that no one would be able to distinguish or remember them by their faces.  
> Midnighter is gay superhero who legitimately recognized Dick by his ass.  
> Do check it out!


End file.
